It’s a Thursday night in Camden. And it’s bloody freezing.
Snow’s forecast for the weekend (
), and as the streams of well-dressed,
consciously cool folk stream into the imposing Camden Roundhouse, I find myself
glad that tonight’s show is sold out. An over-heated dance floor of three
thousand bodies sounds unbelievable compared to the frosty dash from the tube
stop to the box office.
Up the stairs and in the domed arena of the Roundhouse, we
find Ethopian wonder-kid
Soul Keita warming the crowd up with some soulful,
jazzy house sounds, with a visual backdrop of colourful ‘80s television given a psychedelic makeover .
Opening proceedings with Alice Coltrane’s
Journey
In Satchidananda,
the protégé
gently cultivates the crowd into admiration, peaking with his Jaar
collaboration
Para(sol). German
producer
Acid Pauli is tonight’s next act, whose set flits between techno and
innovative reworking of tracks such as Pink Floyd’s
Flaming, Joy Division’s
Love
Will Tear Us Apart and Radiohead’s
Creep,
pinnacling with his own storm in a teacup production,
Japan.
Nicolas Jaar’s series of British gigs last year (including
sets at Fabric and Glastonbury) are already the stuff of cultural folklore, and
the word has spread. Tonight’s crowd could be cut down the middle between the
audiophiles who are there to glimpse some of the reputed magic, and those there
because it’s the latest gig to be ‘seen’ at. Regardless of whose out tonight,
Nicolas Jaar can be fairly certain of one thing: he’s making pretty big waves
over here in England. After-all, tonight he’s sold out the same stage that has
seen the likes of Bob Dylan grace its boards.
Which is why it’s fairly surprising that tonight, unlike his
Glastonbury date last summer for instance, the Chilean-New Yorker has decided
to forgo his live band. Playing behind an overbearing screen of monochromatic
grey visuals, Jaar is a solitary figure for much of the set, a barely
perceptiple form behind the glare of his laptop for albeit those right at the
front. For such a vast, cavernous space as the Roundhouse the lack of stage
presence is somewhat unsettling, but its to his credit that he cuts such an
enigmatic presence that he has just enough charisma to pull it off. Whilst he
might tire of what he sees as the music press’ interfering in what he does, as
result of his media reticent and reservations he has inadvertently curated a
idiosyncratic public image inseparable from Nico Jaar the producer and
performer. And tonight, it’s this projected aurora that radiates from the tiny
corner of the stage he inhabits for the entirety of the evening.
The show starts with a slow atmospheric reworking of his
album opener
être, waves of creaking,
organic electronica fills with expectation. Subtle chimes filter through the
speakers, as the ornamental atmosphere builds with a pregnancy that makes the
sudden glimmer of a bassline all the more exciting, as the housier beats of
Can't See What Is Burning There are
soaked up by the excitable crowd. Cuts from his album and various EPs are live
reworked to the nth degree, almost unrecognisable at times – proof, if nothing
else that Nicolas is doing more than just sequencing the tracks.
Forty minutes in and
Too
Many Kids Finding Rain In The Dust, one of the highlights of last year’s
award winning album,
sees Jaar picking up the microphone for the first time, shortly followed by the
stage arrival of collaborator Dave Harrington on guitar. Suddenly the show
feels about 50% more live. The sound takes on an extra dimension, building to
an immersive rendition of
Space Is Only
Noise If You Can See that - as Nico Jaar’s finest productions do - finds the
crowd both jumping to its beat and completely lost in its subtle sonic nuances.
Two encores ensure value for money, as Jaar and Harrington
return to perform a live rendition of their recent stoner-avant-garde
experimental EP
Darkside, after
which Nicolas Jaar graces the stage for a final live jam on the laptop and
midi. It’s close to midnight when we disentangle ourselves from the retreating
punters and step back outside into the cold Camden street. Whilst Nicolas
Jaar’s watertight set has once again provided explicit evidence to why he’s
been fawned over to such a great degree for the last few years, I can’t help
but wonder if tonight’s laptop orientated show wouldn’t have been better suited
to a club, rather than the cavernous Roundhouse, which, for its extended period
with a near empty stage, felt rather vacant of the ‘live’ experience the ticket
had promised.